


‘Cause Baby I Ain’t Wonder Woman

by Full_Of_Grace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (much less rough than canon frankly), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Gen, Ill add more tags later when I get to them, Slow Burn, Warning for referenced abusive childhood (nothing any worse than canon), Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Full_Of_Grace/pseuds/Full_Of_Grace
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen has long been repressing her super powerful abilities. But after a chance interaction with a beautiful vigilante, and a rise in suspicious crimes, Dany might have to resurrect the fire within her.Or, the Daensa superhero AU only I wanted.(On Hiatus for now, sorry)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this just sorta happened....  
> I’m posting this for accountability. I will finish this, dang it!
> 
> Title from the Kacey Musgraves song. No Beta so I apologize for any mistakes.

It was the story on the news that first caught Dany’s eye when she came into work that day. There was a little TV mounted up in the corner of the shop that looked like it ought to display security footage but instead constantly played a muted version of whatever piece happened to be on the local news at the time. Today, the story was about superheroes. 

Evidently, one of them had tracked down and captured a serial killer. That was good, though the capture of serial killers tended to just remind Dany that serial killers existed, and the fact that one had apparently been running around King’s Landing as recently as yesterday sent shivers down her spine. But today the killer was caught.

There was a picture of him, on the news, right after he’d been delivered to the cops. His eyes were bloodshot and terrifying, but more notable was the fact that his arms and legs were both enclosed in an inch thick layer of ice. The news people were describing how once the man had been chipped out of his chilly chains, he’d lost a finger to frostbite. The anchors were evidently discussing whether or not it’d been appropriate for the Super-Powered-Individual to utilize their powers to bind him like that. As far as Dany could figure from their facial expressions, the woman anchor disapproved, while her male cohort did not.

Uncomfortable, Dany turned away from the screen to the little rack of crystals by the register. She hated the way that the news discussed superheros (or Super-Powered-Individuals, or whatever had now been deemed the appropriate term). As if it was their place to judge somebody for blasting off the fingertip of a serial killer. Gods knew the man had done much worse during his crimes.

That was all part of the air of anxiety around SPIs– that they were inherently dangerous. Dany’s stomach squirmed as she thought of it, running a fingernail along the edge of an amethyst on the rack. She could understand that in some cases, of course, but the majority of powers were either useful or merely odd. Someone could commit malicious acts with plant manipulation, but it seemed more likely that they would just use it to grow a large garden. 

Or they might use their powers for vigilante work, like the ice-hero had. Dany turned back to the TV, and saw that the news was now showing an interview with a masked man in a silvery gray suit, hovering a few inches above the ground. She recognized him instantly. It was Grey Wind, the de facto leader of King’s Landing’s very own team of superheroes, which had uncreatively been dubbed The S-Team by the media. Dany was surprised to see him. She’d read about Grey Wind, and his more camera shy teammates Nymeria and The Ghost, in the papers, but she hadn’t known any of them possessed power over ice. 

As the masked hero continued to talk, she let her eyes drift from the screen once more. She thought it was a good thing, in general, that there were more superheroes around. Not just SPIs, who did things like grow the aforementioned large garden, or used mind reading to cheat on their college exams, but proper heroes, who recognized that they had remarkable talents, and should try to do remarkable things. Her fingers twitched near her waist. Wouldn’t she love to do remarkable things. To do anything, really. But as her brother had told her once, more superheroes meant more supervillains, too. When a tiny portion of the population had genetic defects that made them more powerful than any ordinary human could dream of, if they started to act outside of human rules, then who knew what might happen. In the past SPIs had been kings, sometimes near gods. Now they still had the power to change the world.

Her revery was abruptly interrupted by soft tingling chimes, and a smooth voice calling her name. “Daenerys,” Melisandre said, emerging from the beaded door frame to the back, “has anybody come in since I’ve been out?”

Her boss had vanished into the back room nearly an hour before. There hadn’t been a single customer since. That wasn’t particularly unusual for the morning– evidently people tended to search out occult wares later in the day. Dany shook her head. Melisandre’s face did not change at the news, and she continued to display the same smooth smirk she usually wore.

Dany’s friend Missandei couldn’t understand how Dany stood her job. “It seems so boring!” She’d exclaimed over drinks. “And, no offense, but your boss is pretty weird.” Both of those things were true. Dany’s job of standing behind a counter in a small, cluttered, usually incense scented shop and waiting for somebody, anybody, to come into buy something, was hardly a thrilling profession. But it gave Dany time to rest and think, to talk to people but not too often. Plus her boss, weird as she definitely was, let her sit on a stool behind the counter, which made Dany’s time at Melisandre’s Mysteries almost infinitely better than any other retail job she’d ever had. 

“Were you watching the news?” Said strange boss asked Dany, fixing her with the dark brown eyes that sometimes would flash as red as her hair. “There are strange things happening in this city.” Melisandre looked at the TV screen, which was back to the anchors, speculating more about the ethics of powers. “Very strange, and very dark.” She left for the back room again.

Interactions like that were what Dany had mentally deemed “classic Mel”. A brief appearance, a vague, ominous speech, and uncomfortable eye contact. At first they had disturbed her, but at this point she had accepted them as fair exchange for getting to sit while she worked. Sometimes Dany wondered if Melisandre might be an SPI herself. She had a very successful online fortune telling business, which helped keep the store afloat, and that, in addition to Melisandre’s hyper specific and often accurate sports predictions, made Dany suspicious that she might actually be able to see the future.

Dany went back to fiddling with the gems on the counter rack. She doubted Melisandre believed that the rocks had any “healing crystaline magic” or whatever other boo was written on their tags, but the crystals were one of their best sellers. She’d even convinced Missandei to buy one, the one time when she’d visited Dany at work. Though Dany was suspicious of most items in the shop, she felt she could hardly discount them, because when you live in a world where people can generate ice from their hands, who was to say rocks couldn’t cure your flu?

Dany was boredly palming a quartz crystal when she heard another chime– not the tingling little bells of the back room, but the solid ring of the front entrance. She stood up straight, pasted on her customer service smile, and turned to face the front door. No one was there.

That was odd. She was certain the bell had rung. There was nobody to be seen outside the shop windows. Either she was having auditory hallucinations, or somebody had so quickly ran into the shop and ducked behind a shelf that she hadn’t had time to see them. Daenerys’s ears pricked up in suspicion. Was that… breathing? Maybe she was hallucinating. She shivered.

Her suspicions were great relieved when somebody did step out from behind a shelf, panting slightly as if from exertion. Dany smiled again.

The customer was a woman about Dany’s own age, and she was stunningly gorgeous. She had long flowing red hair, blue eyes, and a slight gentle smile. Dany worried her own expression might look manic in comparison, so attempted to ease her service worker face into a more natural look. “Welcome to Melisandre's Mysteries! What mysteries might I guide you towards today?” Gods, the intro line Mel had fed her was dorky. She aggressively willed herself not to flush with shame, and then wondered why she cared if this customer thought she was dorky. This lovely, beautiful, sophisticated seeming ginger-haired customer. Maybe she knew why.

“I’m just browsing.” The woman said, smiling brightly. Dany’s face was possibly creeping back into manic territory. “What sort of stuff do you have here?”

“Well, we carry all sorts of items, but for people who are just dabbling, I might recommend trying some of our incense, or looking at the crystals.” Dany gestured towards the stones on the rack. “We have a small collection right here at the counter, though there’s more variety in the back. Feel free to look around as long as you like, though.” 

Then, there was a horrible crashing noise. Dany looked beyond the woman in horror to where a box of tiny bottles of essential oils had been shattered into pieces on the ground, bits of broken glass sparkling from a large puddle of oil that was rapidly spreading out in all directions. “Oh shit!” A voice cried. A male voice. Dany stared, wide eyed. There was no man in the shop.

Or rather, there had been no man in the shop. In the middle of the puddle of clear extracts a form was materializing, seemingly out of nowhere. It was a dark haired man on his hands and knees, in jeans and a T-shirt. He looked up at Dany, horrified.

“Oh my gods Jon, you are so incompetent!” The stunning woman cried, going to yank the man to his feet. Dany gaped at the two of them, all thoughts of looking dignified completely forgotten. There was a man in the shop who had appeared out of thin air, and now he was glaring at her.

“Citizen!” He said in a voice that might have been intimidating if his knees and elbows weren’t glistening with essential extracts. “If you tell anybody what you have seen, Sansa here will ice you.”

“No I won’t!” The woman, Sansa, said to him, then turned to look at Dany. “Really, I won’t.” She paused. “But it would be great if you didn’t tell anybody. And if you let us use your back room.”

———

“So…” Dany said, enveloped in the semi darkness of the back room, “you guys are definitely in the S-Team, huh?” 

The man– Jon looked up from where he was dabbing at his knees with a spare cloth, or at least what Dany hoped was a spare cloth and not some special scarf of Melisandre’s. Mel herself had seeming vacated the building through the back entrance, which was a relief, because Dany had no idea how she might explain the presence of the back room’s powerful guests. 

“What tipped you off?” Sansa said with a sigh. “The mysterious appearing man?”

“I tripped! I was tired!” Jon was clearly defensive. His dabbing took on a slightly more aggressive tone.

“That, and how he said you would, and I quote, ‘ice me’ if I told people what I saw.” Dany said. “Seeing as how there was literally just a news report about how that killer had been bound up by the S-Team in a coating of ice, I could connect the dots.” She looked over them again. “I’d guess that you’re The Ghost,” she said to the man, “because you turn invisible.” Then she looked back at Sansa. “And you are?”

“Not technically a superhero.” She said, smiling in a tight way. “Or at least not one with a pseudonym. I’m more of a… behind the scenes type. Usually.”

“Except when you’re binding up bad guys in ice.” 

“Except for then.” Sansa looked at Jon, who had ceased attempting to de-oil his pants. He seemed to have accepted his fate of temporarily smelling like a Bed Bath and Beyond. “Jon, do you think it’s been long enough?”

“Should probably wait a few more minutes.” He grunted. Then he sat down on a nearby cardboard box. The objects within made a threatening clinking sound as his weight settled on it, and he quickly hopped back up.

There was a brief, awkward silence. Dany coughed. “So, um, Jon and Sansa, why did you guys sneak in here invisibly in the first place? And why go in the back room?” 

“You know our names?!” Jon said, then groaned. “This has backfired spectacularly.

“I said yours earlier when you fell, dumbass.” Sansa was smiling despite the rudeness of her words. “And then you said I’d ice her.” She turned to Dany. “We came in here to avoid having our identities uncovered. As Jon said, it’s backfired spectacularly.” 

“How would you get your identities exposed?” Dany asked. “You look totally normal, and I haven’t seen you on TV. Plus, he’s invisible.”

“Well I’m not.” Sansa said. “And I was spotted by a reporter while the cops were picking up that monster we trapped. Like I said, I’m a behind the scenes kind of girl. Most people don’t even know I exist. Wouldn’t do to be exposed right now. I had Jon cloak me– it’s a little extra thing he can do. Like sharing the invisibility. But it takes a lot of energy, and he can’t keep it up for long. We were trying to run somewhere where we wouldn’t be spotted.”

“The plan was to duck inside some place, go behind a shelf, I whip the cloak off her and now she’s just a normal girl in a store.” Jon said. “I’d slip into a private area somewhere for a while, go visible and gather my strength. She’d leave, then after a while I’d go invisible again and make my way home.” 

“But that plan got smashed with all those tiny perfumes.” Sansa said. “So now, if you don’t mind, we’ll be waiting in here for a few more minutes, then walk out your front door, and you’ll never speak of this to anyone, ever.”

“Or what, you’ll ice me?” Dany raised an eyebrow. 

“No, but we won’t pay you.” Jon said, looking at her very seriously. “It’d be pretty stupid to not take fifteen thousand dragons.”

“Fifteen thousand whats?!” Sansa said, clearly unaware of this situation. “Jon what the fu–”

“I mean, if you’re offering I’ll take it.” Dany interjected. She had student loans. “To be honest, I probably won’t tell anybody anyways, but I’ll accept a bribe.”

“Just, please don’t tell anybody.” Sansa said. She looked serious. The genuine concern in her large blue eyes knocked the jokes from Dany’s mouth. “We don’t actually have that money, and I’m sure you can understand why it’d be dangerous if the general public knew who we were.”

“I understand.” Dany said, returning her gaze. “I won’t tell.” 

“Or else she’ll ice you.” Jon said, breaking the subtle tension that had built in the room. Sansa laughed.

“You should probably head back out to the front.” She said to Dany. “An empty store is suspicious. And that mess will need to be cleaned up. I’d help if I could, but…”

“It’s fine.” Dany said. “I’ve cleaned up worse messes. The bigger issue will be explaining the loss to my boss.” She grimaced, already imagining Melisandre’s eyes flashing with rage. 

“You’ve been so wonderful.” Sansa said sincerely. “I’m sorry about the trouble we’ve caused. Thank you so much… I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen.” 

“Daenerys Targaryen.” Sansa smiled, but then screwed up her face slightly, as if remembering something. Dany wanted to kick herself. Why had she revealed that? But then Sansa smiled again. “Thank you so much, Daenerys. We’re in your debt.”

Jon nodded in agreement. 

“It’s no problem.” Dany said. “Except for– you are quite literally in debt. To this store. Those oils you broke probably total up to a few hundred dragons.”

Jon let out a mournful sigh, and pulled out a credit card. Dany rushed back out front. Luckily, it seemed that nobody had wandered into the store while they’d been in the back. Dany went to the crime scene, grabbed the damp little box to decipher the prices, and rang up the card for a total of 354 dragons and 26 stags. The name on card, Dany filed away for later, was Jon Snow. 

She rushed back to return the card, and Jon apologized again for the mess.

“Again, no problem.” Dany said. “I should probably go clean up now.”

“Yep.” Jon said. Sansa gave her another beautiful smile. Dany smiled back, and left.

It took about six minutes for Dany to scrape all the broken glass off the floor and sop up the essential oils. The ground was still a bit greasy, but she figured that Mathos would probably get it clean when he mopped the floor this weekend. The real issue was still the product loss. Melisandre did not appreciate broken items, even when they were paid for. Maybe Dany could lie and say somebody had come in and bought them all? No, she’d have to do a more thorough job cleaning for that to work.

She was considering options when she re-entered the back room and saw it was empty. Evidently the duo had taken the opportunity to vacate the premises. Dany felt a little pang at not being able to say goodbye to the strange, superpowered twosome. Then she noticed it– a piece of paper on one of the boxes.

It was a note, written on the back of an old receipt in looping purple handwriting: “Thanks again for your understanding and discretion. You deserve a favor. If you’re ever in need of some _super_ assistance, call me.” There was a number written at the bottom, and though the note wasn’t signed, it was blatant who’d left it. Dany’s heart leapt in her chest. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years, and it possibly wasn’t over. 

Dany marveled at her luck as she returned to the storefront, the note tucked securely into her pocket. She had once decided to try her best to keep powers and secrets away from herself, simply a story on the news. But maybe some things couldn’t stay buried. Maybe remarkable things would seek you out, even if you tried to evade them. 

She smiled through the rest of her morning shift that day, was perhaps overly friendly with the five or six customers who eventually showed up, but they didn’t complain. One woman was deeply disappointed to hear that they had “just run out of Frankincense oil, unfortunately” but had wound up buying a salt lamp with Dany’s encouragement.

Melisandre returned to the store about fifteen minutes before Dany’s shift was over at one. That was a good thing, because Mathos didn’t show up until two on Tuesdays, and Dany preferred to not stay late in the shop. 

She greeted Mel with a wide smile, then wracked her brain for the best way to present the loss of the essential oils. Before she could say anything though, Melisandre grabbed her by the shoulders and stared directly into her eyes.

“Things are coming. Dark things. Hidden secrets will be exposed. They must be. For the darkness of the night must be met with fire. Indeed, I’ve seen it, and strange as it seems, it must be met with fire and ice.” Melisandre’s eyes seemed to burn directly into Daenerys’s soul. For the first time she was properly frightened by her employer, who regularly said strange and ominous things, but had never addressed her in such a direct and aggressive fashion.

Melisandre’s grip suddenly relaxed, and Dany extricated herself from under her hands. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Dany said, uncomfortable. There was no way that Melisandre could know about– could know about all that. Certainly that’s not what she meant.

Melisandre shook her head slightly, and frowned. Her eyes were inscrutable as ever. “Things are changing.” She said, and sighed. “You can clock out early, if you want.”

Daenerys did just that, her heart beating fast in her chest. She felt almost nauseous. So much had happened today. She didn’t know wether to be excited or terrified. As she began the walk back from Melisandre’s Mysteries to her apartment, she pulled the note out of her pocket.

She might have to give that number a call, sooner than she’d ever thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon whomst? Season finale where? I’ve never met her. Daensa is endgame.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so much shorter than the first one I fear chapter lengths will probably vacillate wildly in this work

It had been a week since Jon and Sansa had stumbled into Melisandre’s Mysteries, and Dany had yet to call the number on the receipt. There hadn’t been any mention of the S-Team on the news, and if Dany tried, she could almost ignore the fact that she’d seriously contemplated getting further involved with the superheros. Still, she’d kept the note, pinned underneath an old bottle of perfume on her bedside table. A couple times throughout the week she’d looked at the note as she was going to sleep, and thought of getting out her cell phone and just doing it.

But right now she was trying to distract herself. Her roommate Irri was out working all evening, and Dany had decided to invite Missandei over for a girls night in. Dany had already installed herself in front of the television in her comfiest PJs. Her pet iguana, Drogon, had installed himself on her shoulder to bask in the light of the nearby floor lamp, and Dany was soothed by his familiar weight. She was scrolling through romantic comedies on Netflix when the doorbell rang. “Come on in Missandei!” She called, unwilling to move and disturb Drogon. “The door’s already unlocked.”

Missandei entered, smiling brightly. “You’re so trusting!” She said, locking the door behind her. “What if I was some sort of serial killer? I could just walk right in.”

“Then I’d be dead,” Dany said, deadpan, “big whoop.” 

Missandei frowned slightly at Dany’s casualness, but then brightened again. “Hi Drogon!” She said, and reached over to give him a little scratch. The lizard’s tail twitched contentedly. Dany laughed. Missandei looked over at the TV screen “So, what are we watching tonight? I’m thinking… Pride and Prejudice.”

“I feel like we watch Pride and Prejudice three times a year.” Dany said.

“And we haven’t seen it in a few months! So it’s perfect.” Dany stuck out her tongue at that, and Missandei laughed. “You like it! I know you do.”

“I do, but not nearly as much as you do. I’m not as… literary as you are.”

Missandei laughed again, then plopped down next to Dany, giving her her best puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeaaaassse? I’ve been wanting to watch it lately but Grey Worm keeps stubbornly refusing to use our weekly movie night on something we’ve already seen. I tell him he’s no fun, but he won’t cave.”

“Oh yeah,” Dany asked “how’s cohabitation been going for you guys?”

“Pretty good. At least I think so. My mom always told me about how living with somebody is the biggest test if you really love them, because that's when you find out all of their nastiest habits. And it seems like she was pretty right. He leaves his shoes in the _weirdest_ places. It’s deeply annoying, but I’ve yet to start hating him.”

“That’s good.” Dany tried not to sound particularly envious. She was very happy for Missandei and Grey Worm. It was just that sometimes she felt like she was stagnating– living in a tiny apartment with her former college roommate, working retail, staying single. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with any of that, but sometimes she wondered if there was nothing more out there for her. A dangerous line of thought. She grimaced, trying not to spiral.

Missandei was a good friend, though, and she noticed Dany’s slight signals of distress. “What’s wrong?” She asked, gently.

It all bubbled up. Dany felt like she was about to cry. She desperately wished she could tell Missandei what was bothering her– _everything_ that was bothering her. But there were things she’d never told anybody, and she couldn’t tell her now. Instead she’d have to leave some parts out. 

“I’ve just been a little down lately.” She said. “Things have been weird… My dad keeps calling me.” Missandei didn’t know the all the details of Daenerys’s estrangement from her family, but she knew the rift existed. And she knew that if Aerys was calling, that was nothing but bad news.

“Gods, that sucks.” Missandei said, and reached to give Dany a hug. “I’m sorry. Do you wanna talk more about it, or nah.”

Dany shook her head, feeling a bit pathetic. “Not everything's been bad lately though.” She tried to be more cheerful. “Work’s been good. I met some interesting– actually, it’s this whole thing. This girl gave me her number about a week ago, and I’ve been wondering whether or not to call.”

“Oh my gosh?!” Missandei said, excited. “You got a girl’s number and didn’t text me immediately, I’m offended! Spill!”

“It’s not like that!” Dany said. She didn’t think it was like that. Sansa was beautiful, and fascinating, and Dany certainly wouldn’t have minded if the number had been offered in that spirit, but that wasn’t the situation. “It was more of like, a friendship offer, I think. I mean, maybe. Really, what happened is that I did her a favor and she said she owed me one. But I kinda just want to talk to her.” She noticed Missandei’s skeptical face. “As a friend!”

“So you’ve been dramatically wrestling with whether or not to call a girl you met, for a whole week, in a strictly platonic way. _Right_.” Missandei’s raised eyebrow made Dany laugh. “Seriously though, I think you should call her, platonic or not. It’s always a good thing to make new friends. And remember, she gave you her number, so it wouldn’t make sense for her to not want you to call.”

Dany smiled. “Thanks Missandei. You’re so good at giving advice. Sometimes I wish I had a tiny version of you to carry around in my pocket so when I freak you could tell me to chill out.”

“You kinda do.” Missandei said. “You can always shoot me a text if you need to talk.”

“Thanks again. You’re the best.” Dany grabbed the remote. “I think it’s time to crank up Pride and Prejudice.”

“Yay!” Missandei pumped a fist into the air, then laughed again. “I can’t wait to see Mr Darcy, the love of my life.”

For the next two hours, the pair of them (and Drogon, for the first half hour till he became restless and Dany had to put him back in his tank) were completely absorbed in the movie. Dany did love Pride and Prejudice, her complaining aside. Missandei exaggeratedly mouthed along during the most important scenes, having evidently memorized the dialogue, and Dany felt truly happy, in light and loopy way, the way she assumed she would have felt at a sleepover as a child, if she’d ever had one.

Eventually, the movie was over, and Missandei gave her regretful goodbyes. Dany hugged her as she was on her way out, and alone in the apartment, reflected on just how lucky she was to have a friend as good as Missandei. She was pouring herself a bowl of Cheerios as a pre-bed snack when Irri burst into the apartment and flopped down onto the couch. 

Irri was a good roommate. She’d been an international student in college, and sheer luck had paired her with Dany. Irri was tidy, polite, and didn’t talk much, which matched Daenerys’s roommate preferences perfectly. When they’d graduated and both decided to stay in King’s Landing (Irri for grad school, Dany because she didn’t have anywhere else to move to), it made perfect sense to get an apartment together. They still weren’t friends, but they got along alright. Irri’s only real quirk was the fact that she always watched the news before bed, a vaguely grandmotherly trait that Dany had quickly absorbed. She was now quite informed on current events. Dany looked at the TV as Irri flicked on the news. 

The news was finishing up some coverage of the King’s Landing mayoral election. Usually the mayoral election wouldn’t have even entered Dany’s mind, but she had to admit there was something pretty entertaining about the fact that both of incumbent Mayor Baratheon’s younger brothers were candidates running against him. The three Baratheon brothers seemed like they were only seconds away from devolving into personal attacks against each other at any given moment they were interviewed. Dany pitied them. Her own family had it’s problems, but at least they didn’t broadcast those problems all over local politics. The anchor was discussing the finer points of Renly Baratheon’s platform when the screen abruptly changed to one with a large BREAKING NEWS banner. 

Dany dropped her spoon into her bowl of Cheerios as she listened to the newswoman’s words. “We are reporting now on the apparent murder of well known SPI vigilante Beric Dondarrion, aka Lord Lightning. Dondarrion, regularly criticized by local law enforcement for his refusal to collaborate with the police, nonetheless has become a well beloved figure in the city throughout the past decade. Reports currently seem to indicate that Dondarrion seemed to have died in a confrontation with local gangsters. This is a great loss for Dondarrion’s well known fanclub, ‘the Brotherhood Without Banners’ in addition, of course, to his family. Our best wishes to the Dondarrion family, and we will report more on this story when we receive additional information.” 

Dany quickly dumped her cereal into the trash and went to her room, feeling sick to her stomach. Ever since she’d moved to King’s Landing, and even before that, she’d heard the stories of how Lord Lightning had defeated various criminals. He was one of the most well known superheroes in the Seven Kingdoms. It was bizarre that he was dead. Only a year ago he had married heiress Allyria Dayne, only a few months ago Mayor Baratheon had presented him with the Key to the City, which he’d done despite the police chief's disapproval. She thought she’d recently read an article on Buzzfeed that Allyria was pregnant. Dany knew it was silly to be so affected by the death of somebody she’d never met, but she still felt tears raise in her eyes.

She lay down on her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It didn’t make sense. Dondarrion had once single handedly taken out a right wing terrorist organization that had been armed with a stolen tank. How could he have been killed by some every day gangsters? Dany thought back to Melisandre’s cryptic speech on darkness coming to King’s Landing. Was this the sort of thing she’d meant? Her stomachache intensified.

Dany pulled out her cellphone to try to find out more about Beric Dondarrion’s death, but her plan was interrupted. Her dad had left her a long message. She must have missed the call when she had her phone on silent for the movie. A part of her just wanted to ignore the call, but she made herself go to her messages and press play. 

Aerys had begun the call yelling at her. “Daenerys! You little bitch! I don’t know why you never pick up, you ungrateful little… Listen to me, listen to me. I need you to come home Daenerys, I need you here. Your brother needs you too. You owe it to us. Come on, you owe us, after what you did, you freak, and still we love you, and we want you to come back. Come on, come on, I know that–”

She cut the message off, shaking. There were several minutes still left on the call, but she knew that it’d just be more of the same. It was always the same. Dany looked at her phone, and sighed. After a moment of hesitation, she deleted the message. If she kept it around, she knew that she’d just listen to it when she was feeling bad and throw herself further into a pit of depression. For a moment, she considered blocking her father’s number. She’d gone as far as to press block, and hover her finger over the confirmation message before she cancelled it. She couldn’t block him. As much as she hated her dad, a part of her was still worried about him. What if one day he called and he really did need her? What if he called, and she didn’t listen, and then he died? It would all be her fault. Again.

Dany threw her phone down on her side table with disgust. She got back into a comfortable position in bed, but just lay there. She couldn’t sleep, turning restlessly back and forth. She kept thinking the most terrible things. Trying desperately to distract herself, she turned to face her side table, and her gaze caught on the perfume bottle, and the receipt under it. 

Impulsively, she sat up and grabbed her phone and the note. Before she could regret it, she called the number. She put the phone up to her ear, worrying her lip nervously. The phone rang. Two times, three times, four–

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was definitely Sansa’s. Dany could remember it perfectly.

“Hi. It’s me, um, Daenerys Targaryen. From the shop. You left me your number?” Dany was panicking. Why had she done this? “Look, I’m sorry, it’s really late, and–”

“Oh no, it’s not a problem.” Sansa said. She sounded concerned, and Dany felt terrible. “Are you alright? Do you need help?”

“Oh, uh, no.” Dany said. “I mean, yes. I mean, I was wondering if I could meet with you? And talk to you about something important. Tomorrow, preferably, if you can meet then.”

“I can do that.” Sansa said. “Where do you want to meet?”

Dany gave an address, antsy. She was all adrenaline, as if she was doing something dangerous. In a way she was.

“Isn’t that like, a warehouse? Google maps says it’s down by the docks?”

“Yeah. The thing I need to talk about, it’s pretty private.” Dany bit her lip again. She was going to chew up her whole face at this rate. 

“Alright. I’ll meet you. Is 4 alright?”

“Yeah, um, yeah that’s fine. Gods I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

“It’s really fine! I’m glad you’re not in danger right now or anything. It’ll be nice to see you again.” Sansa sounded genuine, which startled Dany.

“It’ll be nice to see you again too.” Dany said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” 

Dany put down her phone, and plugged it in to charge. She went back to her bed and, despite her previous restlessness, collapsed into sleep almost instantly. She didn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve finally hammered out a (loose) outline for this sucker so expect about 15 chapters, give or take some.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hi guys. Apologies! Since school ended I’ve had limited access to computers, which is why it took so long for me to write this chapter. Super duper sorry about that! I’ll try to take less time between other chapters. I am still working on this don’t worry I haven’t given up on it.  
> This chapter is mostly just exposition and backstory, sorry about that too. I swear Sansa and Dany will interact next chapter!

It was lunch time at the Stark household, and Sansa was looking at her phone. This was frowned upon during breakfast and dinner, which typically were designated family meals, but lunch was fair game. Her mother, the enforcer of such rules, wasn’t even present that day, out having lunch at some new Tyroshi restaurant with her sister. So Sansa was free to rudely shove her pita sandwich into her mouth while scrolling through Instagram. Margaery Tyrell was “on vacay” again. Was she ever at home? Sansa was so absorbed in staring her phone she didn’t hear her brother saying her name till the third time he said it.

“Sansa,” Bran snapped his fingers near her face, and she jerked up. She looked at him curiously. “I was wondering if you’d drive me to Jojen and Meera’s this afternoon? We’re gonna play Smash Bros”

“Sure, when?”

“Around 4, they said.” He frowned, shutting his eyes tightly. “Or, you’re busy?”

“Did you just have a vision of my busy-ness?” Sansa was incredulous. Bran’s flashes of perception couldn’t divulge next week’s lottery numbers, but apparently could snoop three hours into Sansa’s future.

Bran opened his eyes again. “Not really-- it’s more like, I just got a feeling that you’d be doing something. Something more important than taking me to go play video games.”

“Sansa, doing something important?” The last Stark at the table let out an exaggerated laugh, bringing his fist down on the table, the force of the motion sending a fork fly five inches into the air. Rickon was 15, and in the middle of a bit of a jerk phase. Rickon was extraordinarily strong, and Sansa knew he was desperate to go out and fight crime with their siblings, something her mother had prohibited till he was an adult. He was jealous of her, and she was sure that a part of him thought she was squandering the luck of her adulthood by not fighting as actively as the rest of the S-Team. 

Instead of trying to have a meaningful discussion about any of that, Sansa stuck her tongue out at him. “I do important things every day.” She said. Rickon huffed. Then she turned back to Bran. “But I’m just going shopping this afternoon. Nothing that special.” She smiled what she hoped was a convincing smile. “You’re right that I can’t drive you though, sorry.”

Bran blinked hard again, as if another feeling had hit him, but then shook it off and smiled. “No problem. I’ll just ask mom or something.”

“I could drive you!” Rickon said. 

“No, you could not.” Bran rolled his eyes at Rickon. “You aren’t driving me until you get your license. You probably aren’t even driving me then. I’d barely trust you with a bicycle.”

Rickon glared. “Why don’t you just push the car with your brain then, Oh Wise One.”

“Because it would exhaust me, not to mention that people tend to be suspicious of cars without drivers. _Obviously_.”

“I still don’t understand why you guys spend so much freaking effort trying to keep your powers secret. I’d go crazy if I never got any credit for the stuff I can do.”

Sansa was frustrated. “Because it’s dangerous! Like we’ve said a million times! Think about what happened to Dondarrion last night! Everybody knew about him, and now he’s dead.”

That sobered Rickon up. When the Starks had read the news this morning, they’d all been greatly concerned. Rickon’s eyes widened. “But he just died in a fight! That didn’t have anything to do with people knowing his identity.”

“That we know of.” Bran interjected. “Sansa’s right, it’s very important that nobody learns about our connection to the S-Team. Especially now, I think. I’ve been having feelings…” he cut off, face serious.

“Just feelings?” Rickon looked skeptical. Sansa sort of sympathized. For the past few months, Bran’s “perceptions” as he’d dubbed them, seemed to have been getting foggier. His strange ability to simply sense certain events that were or would be happening had only appeared after the car accident five years ago, when he’d lost use of his legs. Before then he’d only had telekinesis. Sansa had worried that perhaps his secondary skill was fading away, which would make it more difficult for the S-Team to locate the criminals they spent their time fighting. Bran only nodded in response to Rickon’s question.

Sansa was done with her sandwich, and got up to put her plate in the sink and head off to her room. She had no desire to continue the increasingly awkward conversation with her brothers. As she was leaving the kitchen, Rickon called after her. “Hey Sansa, while you’re out shopping, can you get some toothpaste? I ran out and grocery day isn’t till Monday.”

Sansa turned and nodded to him, smiling tightly. She quickly left the room and headed for the stairs. As she climbed up to the rowhouse’s second story, she felt an uncomfortable weight in her chest she was pretty sure was guilt.

Sansa Stark was not particularly used to keeping secrets from her family. Not that this was a gigantic secret, but she was sure her siblings would like to be informed on her plan to meet up with a near stranger in an abandoned warehouse. They would immediately think it was some sort of trap. Robb or Jon or Arya would insist on tagging along, and Daenerys had seemed quite serious about their discussion being private.

In their defense, it did sort of seem like a trap. The calling in the middle of the night, the suspiciously isolated warehouse— Sansa might as well be the girl who dies twenty minutes into a horror movie. But despite that, Sansa trusted Daenerys. Her and Jon’s secret identities had yet to be exposed to the media, and they hadn’t been murdered in the middle of the night. In fact, the obvious trapness of the location made her think it wasn’t one. If Daenerys was an evil mastermind, she probably would have arranged a similarly abandoned but substantially less ominous location for their rendezvous.

Daenerys was… intriguing. Sansa had only interacted with her for a few minutes, but Sansa felt that in that brief meeting she had seen something special in Daenerys. If Sansa was Bran, she might have considered it a perception. As she was, it was only intuition. And her intuition told her that if Daenerys wanted to meet with her in an abandoned warehouse for an unspecified “important talk”, then Sansa needed to go have that talk. 

Sansa reached her bedroom at the top of the stairs, and locked her door behind her. It was nice, having a room all her own, though a little strange. Arya moving into the nice new dorms at KLU had aggressively emphasized the fact that Sansa was twenty four years old and still living with her mother. It wasn’t unusual for millenials to still live at home, she knew, but so many of her college friends were now in apartments with friends or roommates or romantic partners. People were growing up all around her! Hells, Robb and Jon were only two years older than her and they both were living with their _fiances_. Sansa hadn’t had a long term relationship ever, unless you counted Joffrey in Freshman year, and she didn’t, as that was A) disastrous and B) before her discovery of her own lesbianism. The two facts were probably related, though Joffrey was awful enough she doubted things would have been good even if she’d been genuinely interested in him.

Not that Sansa had time for a long term relationship. She sighed as she sat down on her bed, pulling out her phone again. She was busy. Freelance graphic design, plus freelance heroism, with a decent heaping of working as a chauffeur for her younger brothers, meant she didn’t have a ton of spare time. Sansa looked through instagram again. Margaery Tyrell had posted a cute family photo with her brothers and parents. Sansa really needed to unfollow her. She’d gone on a couple dates with Margaery a few months ago. It hadn’t worked out. Margaery probably thought Sansa was some sort of insta-stalker at this point. 

It wasn’t like that though, Sansa reflected, swiping to a different picture. She didn’t want to be _with_ Margaery– she wanted to _be_ her. She followed Margaery the same way she followed celebrities– she gave off the same image of perfection and control. Margaery made vacation pictures with her dorky middle aged father somehow appear almost chic. In the one Sansa was looking at, she was making a (still beautiful looking) funny face, while said dorky dad held up some pinkish drink with a genial smile, the sky impossibly blue behind them. 

Maybe things would be different if Sansa’s own father was still alive. Ned Stark had died in the same car accident that had paralyzed Bran. He’d left a gaping hole in his wake. Sansa wondered sometimes if she’d still live at home if he was around. She knew on a rational level that her mom and Bran and Rickon could take care of themselves just fine, but a part of her was still haunted by how her mother had been immediately after the accident. Nearly drowning in an ocean of grief. What if something else happened, and her family was left stranded again? Sansa had decided she ought to be a life raft. 

If her dad had lived he might have made the heroism easier, too. He and her mom had both been SPIs, like all of their children. When Ned Stark had touched somebody, they’d had to tell the truth. It had both helped and hindered her father’s work as a lawyer. Her mom could see through solid objects, when she wanted, though Sansa was pretty sure Catelyn had almost entirely stopped using her skill at some point or another. When Ned had been around, he’d spent a great deal of time conveying to his children the importance of always using their powers responsibly, and to help others when they could. When her parents gained custody of Jon, who was biologically Sansa’s cousin but practically her brother, and discovered he could turn invisible, he’d included him in his lectures too. When her father had died, it was Jon, the oldest of them, who’d first taken the concept of using their powers to help others to its natural conclusion. Arya, Robb, and Sansa had eventually followed suit, with Bran assisting from home whenever he had a relevant perception.

Sansa didn’t know if their father would have approved of their being vigilantes. She was sure he’d like that they were helping people, but he would probably be worried. Their mother certainly was. She’d gotten into a massive argument with Robb whenever she’d first deduced who the team of SPI’s who’d recently cleared out a group of muggers from north Fleabottom were. The argument had expanded to every member of the S-Team and had ended with Arya being strictly prohibited from participating in their work till she was 18, which Arya had been very upset about, but was frankly probably a good idea. 

Sansa tossed her phone onto the bed next to her, now uninterested in looking through instagram, too caught up in her thoughts. Sansa herself had deeply complicated feelings about the way the Stark family used their powers. She never regretted helping people, that wasn’t it, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her nervous. As a child, she’d never envisioned herself facing off against the literal mob, but she and her siblings had done just that on a few occasions. And there was the fame that went along with being a “superhero”, the media fixation on anybody who was noticeably different. The S-Team had fan websites. There were forum threads speculating on the potential identities of Grey Wind, Nymeria, and Ghost, the three official members of the Team. The recent ice incident had thrown many of these forums into utter confusion.

It was a small miracle that Sansa had less media acknowledgement than Jon, who could literally turn invisible. She liked it that way. She never did much hero-ing herself. It seemed better to work support– freezing locks until they snapped, creating (unfortunately slippery) supports that John and Arya could use to climb to the heights Robb could fly to. And there was the strangest element of her powers. Putting her freezing hands over the wounds her siblings acquired in the line of fighting could heal them. Not entirely, usually, but a few times it had reduced injuries Sansa had worried might have been life threatening down to mere nuisances. Arya said the process was agonizing– “like being stabbed with a bunch of tiny freezing cold knives” so Sansa only used it when it seemed necessary, but it was certainly her favorite of the applications of her power.

She knew that most people would consider ice creation more useful offensely. But she worried about the consequences. Working more offensively would thrust her into the spotlight with her siblings, and she was the most concerned of any of them of staying undercover. And there were the more practical elements of using ice powers offensively. More than any of her siblings, Sansa had the capacity to hurt somebody using her power. That man she’d trapped in the ice had lost a finger, she learned on the news, and there was a lot of discussion about whether “SPIs are inherently a danger to the civilian populace.” The man she’d hurt was a serial killer, but Sansa knew how that sort of discussion went. Though many people were entertained and intrigued by hearing about SPIs, a number of people were frightened. And she understood that. Sansa didn’t want people to be afraid of her. 

Sansa wondered if what Daenerys wanted to discuss with her was related to her powers. Almost certainly, she thought. Though Daenerys had said she wasn’t in immediate danger the night before, she was in obvious distress, and she probably needed help of the super-powered variety. Though that led to the question of why she’d insisted on such a private location. Perhaps Daenerys was being threatened by somebody close to her, maybe a boyfriend. The thought made Sansa very angry. Daenerys seemed like a lovely young woman, and she deserved a partner who’d treat her right. Sansa hoped that wasn’t the situation. She looked at the time on her phone. Only 1:30. She had two hours before she had to go to meet with Daenerys.

She might as well work. She had a client who wanted a new layout for their website’s front page done by Sunday, and she had only just started on it. She sat at her desk and opened up her design program, moving elements back and forth.

The hours flew by faster than she thought they would. She left the house quickly, tossing quick goodbyes to Bran, Rickon, and her mother, who told her while she was out shopping she should try to get “a candle or something” for Aunt Lysa’s birthday in two weeks. Sansa nodded and added another item to pick up on the stop she’d have to make at the grocery store after she met with Daenerys. Gods, she hated lying to her family. 

Google maps successfully brought her the specified address five minutes before four. It was sort of close to the docks, one amongst many large squarish warehouse buildings on the street. Sansa eyed the large, closed, entrance for vehicles nervously, then noticed a smaller door off to the side. She headed for that. She hoped that this wasn’t breaking an entering– though she had broken and entered before. Hazard of the trade. 

The warehouse rendezvous seemed even less suspicious now she was actually here. Warehouses might be ominous locations at night, but there was nothing particularly scary about the large gray building at four in the afternoon. If Daenerys had wanted to murder her, she would have asked Sansa to meet her the previous night.

Reassured, Sansa turned the door handle. It wasn’t locked, and the door easily opened. She stepped inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry about how short this chapter is. And sorry it’s been a while. Again I have kinda spotty computer access so I fear updates might be spread out quite a bit.

The last time Dany had been in the warehouse had been months ago. That day she’d told herself sternly that that visit would be the last. She’d been wrong. Now she was back, sitting on a shipping container and bouncing her leg anxiously. This was a bad idea. She should leave now– call Sansa and apologize. She checked her phone– ten minutes till four, she still had enough time to leave. She was about to push herself off the container, but stopped.

If Dany left now, she would regret it. She would lay in her bed at night, imagining what could have happened if she’d just been brave enough to stay. To _finally_ tell somebody. She put her hands in her lap, twitching her fingers together. Her gaze flicked back and forth along the looming steal walls of the building.

She’d found the warehouse in college. After a particularly rough phone call with her father, she’d had a miniature breakdown, ditched campus and started running. Dany had run for something like half an hour until her brain caught up with her legs and stopped her short, right in front of a block of warehouses in the dock district. Her frazzled mind, desperate to hide away somewhere cool and dark, had decided to try the nearest door. Surprisingly, it had opened. Even more surprisingly, there were no alarms, or flashing lights, or any sign that her presumably illegal intrusion had been noticed in any way. She’d curled up next to a container much like this one, and had a good cry.

The warehouse had served as her hideaway for the past five years. She had never been arrested for trespassing, and in fact had never been so much as questioned by anybody as to why she was there. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed within the warehouse outside of the crates and shelves acquiring more dust. Whoever it was that owned the warehouse seemed to have forgotten about it entirely. 

That was fine with her. It was good to have a place to be alone. Truly alone, in the way she couldn’t be in her apartment, with Irri in the other room and neighbors on the other side of the wall. 

Now, she reflected, she wouldn’t be alone. Her secret place couldn’t be entirely a secret any more. Dany’s legs bounced faster. ‘Stop freaking out.’ She chided herself. ‘It’s going to be fine. Breathe. In and out.” She tried the breathing exercises she’d learned from a yoga youtube video she’d watched, trying to clear her mind. Her arms and hands were tingling. She shook her head. Her mind was not satisfactorily cleared. She was on the verge of standing up and pacing when she heard the soft metallic creak of the door opening.

Dany did hop up at that. She brushed at her clothes, in case any of the warehouse’s copious helping of dust had clung to her. The shipping container she was on was hidden from the view of the warehouse door, so she rushed to the end of the metal shelves concealing her. She poked her head around, just to make 100% sure the intruder was who she assumed they were.

It was indeed Sansa. The red haired girl was wearing a moderately fancy pastel blue dress, much more chic (and less action hero friendly) than the leggings and t-shirt she’d been wearing the first time Dany had met her. Sansa was looking around anxiously at the shadows that loomed throughout the building. Dany stepped out into view. Sansa jumped, just a little, looking at Dany with wide eyes.

“Uh. Hi.” Dany said, feeling immensely awkward. She realized that she hadn’t developed any sort of plan beyond simply meeting Sansa in the warehouse. “Thanks for coming out here. Sorry about the weird location.”

“It’s fine.” Sansa smiled. She had such a brilliant smile. It seemed soft and empathetic and entirely honest, and Dany hoped that it was how it seemed. Sansa didn’t seem to know what to say either. Not that she needed to– she hadn’t been the one to arrange their meeting. Dany thought frantically back to what Missandei had said. Sansa had given Dany her number. She’d explicitly said to call if she needed help. She was currently gracing Dany with the sweetest expression known to mankind. Sansa was probably not going to be mad at her.

“Though I do gotta ask,” Sansa said, interrupting Dany’s spiral “why a warehouse? Is this even your warehouse? If so, why do you own a warehouse?”

“I don’t. Ha, yeah, I mean, I don’t really know who owns this place. But it’s not me.” Dany grimaced, then tried to explain herself. “But I don’t think they care, whoever owns it. It’s basically abandoned, I think. I’ve been coming here for years and I’ve never gotten in trouble.” 

“You’ve been visiting an abandoned warehouse for years?” Sansa wasn’t quite smiling any more. She didn’t look angry though, more curious. Her brow was wrinkled. 

“Sometimes I need a place to get away from people. I live with a roommate in an apartment building in a super busy neighborhood, so true privacy is sometimes hard to find.”

Sansa nodded. “I can understand that. I still live with my siblings, and I’d love to be able to get away sometimes.” She smiled again. 

Dany was relieved. “Yes! You understand. Sometimes I get so filled up and nervy that I just can’t stand to be near people. I have to have somewhere to get away and try to calm down. Stress relief and all that.”

“That’s healthier than smoking.” Sansa said thoughtfully. “Head out to an abandoned warehouse and just scream a little. Punch a wall or something. Thought that would probably hurt your hand.” 

‘Yeah,’ Dany thought ‘I do a little more than punch walls.’ She tried to smile, and gave another awkward little laugh. “You know you don’t really seem like the wall punching type.”

Her smile faded again. “You might be surprised. I’ve had my moments.” Sansa looked away for a moment. It was difficult for Dany to picture this ultra-sophisticated woman punching a wall. She reminded herself that Sansa had encased a man’s limbs in ice. She caught Sansa’s eye as the other girl looked up.

“Well, everybody has their moments.”

“Yes.” Sansa looked up at her intently. “Look, I don’t want to push you or anything, but I have to ask. You didn’t ask me to meet up in such a discreet location just to chat about anything. What’s the important thing you have to discuss?” She frowned, really frowned. “I know you said you weren’t in immediate danger last night, but I’m sure you can understand I’m a little worried.”

“Oh, please don’t worry!” Dany cried. “It’s not that– well I’m not sure– I–” She had never tried to explain it to anybody before. “Well, maybe it’s best if I just show you.”

Daenerys took several large steps back from Sansa, carefully surveilling the area of the warehouse they were in. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. It had been months since she’d done this, years since she’d done it in front of anybody. But the location was familiar, comfortable. If she couldn’t summon up the will to do it now, she’d never be able to.

Dany held her arms out in front of her, aiming to Sansa’s left. She closed her eyes into slits, focusing deep within herself. All of her anxiety about talking to Sansa, all of her worry that she’d stay in her dead end job forever, all of the anger and bitterness and grief she felt whenever she got a call from her dad, she harnessed it all. She felt her arms start to tingle, then to itch.

Incredible warmth rose from deep in her chest, and Dany felt like every breath she took was sucking all the heat from the warehouse interior. She grew hotter and hotter, her vision blurring slightly as her head ached from pressure. The heat moved from Dany’s chest to her shoulders, through her arms, into her falms and the tips of her fingers.

A gout of fire sprung from Dany’s hand, jetting out of her like a flaming hose, and smashed past Sansa into the warehouse wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! Dany’s fairly obvious secret power has been revealed!


End file.
